


Complications

by helens78



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Angst, M/M, OMC - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-05-11
Updated: 2003-05-11
Packaged: 2017-10-05 11:33:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A falling out with Obi-Wan leads Qui-Gon to look for comfort with Xanatos.  When that doesn't work, he goes after the Knight who's been in everyone's thoughts lately -- Aubris Feln.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Complications

Our apartment is empty when I return from watching Obi-Wan's sparring session with Xanatos, and I'm relieved. Obi-Wan will be in classes for the rest of the afternoon, which gives me time to think.

What could Obi-Wan possibly have been doing all night? He looked terrible this afternoon, and it's a miracle his form wasn't thrown off. He performed far better than I expected, given the fact that he didn't come home last night. Of course, he hasn't come home most nights lately, but this night was clearly different. I was impressed with how well he managed to put it aside and center. I only wish I could have done the same. Perhaps I should have waited to voice my concerns until the two of us were alone. I somehow doubt Obi-Wan appreciated being criticized in front of Xanatos.

But if his ego suffered at all from that criticism, he more than made up for it with the sparring. He performed even better than I'd expected. For all that Xanatos growled at me over suggesting the match in the first place, Obi-Wan was the right person to pair against Xan. I expected each of them to win a few rounds, and I wasn't wrong about that, but there were a number of things in that sparring session I did _not_ expect. Obi-Wan losing his footing altogether when he missed a jab at Xanatos, for example. I've seen him recover from far worse than that. Obi-Wan appeared as surprised by that as I was. I'll have to ask Master Chefor to add some footwork drills to Obi-Wan's exercise routine in the future.

And when did Xanatos and Obi-Wan...? If Xan's hint in the lift last night was vague, seeing the two of them trading images certainly made things clear. Force, _that_ brings back memories. When Obi-Wan was seventeen -- before we started sleeping together -- he did that sort of thing to me often during our sparring matches. It was as effective then as it was today; when Obi-Wan had Xan pinned to the wall, I thought...

...I wanted it to be me. And worse, I didn't know which one I would have chosen to replace. Being where Obi-Wan was, pressed up against Xanatos; being where Xanatos was, with Obi-Wan staring intently into my eyes -- Force, I'd have taken either one's place, in a heartbeat. The images of the two of them together are going to keep me up at night. I'm jealous, but I'm jealous of both of them. I think I was more distracted during their sparring session than they were; I'm sure it will be better for everyone when Master Chefor takes over.

Especially Xanatos. I wonder now if perhaps I shouldn't have stayed to watch the sparring session. If I'd known my presence would affect Xan the way it did, I would have... what _would_ I have done? I was startled when he snapped at me again. I have no idea what I might have done to deserve that sort of bitterness, and he didn't tell me. I stood there thinking about all the things I've done wrong with him, all the choices I've pushed him into making, and I reached out for him, rubbing his scar as if I could erase all the ways we've wounded each other.

And then he kissed me.

I can still feel his lips on mine. I can feel the way my muscles tightened as I held myself back from doing what I most wanted; slamming him into the wall and taking him was _not_ a good idea, and I knew it. Of course I knew it.

I couldn't even trust myself to touch him. He was bare-chested, sweating from exertion, and if I'd moved so much as a centimeter, I might have...

Force, I'm lucky it didn't go that far. I have been telling myself I'm the last thing he needs right now, that an involvement with me would only bring more chaos to his already-not-uncomplicated life. If I'd thought it could just be sex, I'd have taken him on the floor of the training salle. But there's enough past history between us that it could probably never just be sex. I don't want to rush into anything.

Keep telling yourself that, Jinn. It's a meditation that might just keep you from going to his quarters and pushing him to his knees so he can suck you off.

Meditation. I need the inner quiet of meditation right now; I'm unfocused, unsure of myself. Our rooms are empty; I'm alone. I shrug out of my outer layers of tunics and go to my knees, trying to push aside fears or doubts or reservations about Xan, Obi-Wan, my own feelings for each of them.

Obi-Wan. Our rooms seem so quiet without his presence. So still. Have they always seemed this way when he's been gone, or is it a new sensation brought on because he's spent so much time away these last few weeks? Is it because he's been shutting me out?

I need to talk to him about last night. Whatever happened was no small thing. Will it affect his duties? Will it affect our assignment to aid the Alderaan negotiations? What happened?

I sink into meditation, finally centering, determined to focus. I shouldn't be this worried about Obi-Wan. But he's _never_ shut me out that way before. I don't know what that means.

* * *

It could be minutes or hours later when the door opens. I'm only at the uppermost layer of my meditation, so it only takes me a moment to bring myself out of it. I look over toward the door. "Padawan," I murmur.

"Master."

I rise to my feet and cross my arms in front of my chest, waiting. He looks away, shrugging out of his robe and tossing it over the back of the couch. "I think I should make tea," he mumbles.

I follow him into the kitchen. His moves are jerky, abrupt; his mind is not on the tea at all. Only years of practice enable him to carry out the motions. I go to him and wrap my arms around his waist. "Obi-Wan, tell me what's troubling you."

He turns around to face me and clings to me, burying his head in my chest. I can feel the ache in him before he manages to shield it. "I'm sorry, Master," he whispers.

"Tell me what's wrong," I urge him. "As your master, or your friend, or your lover..."

He goes rigid, then exhales. "Qui, I'm afraid I did something very foolish last night," he whispers. He hesitates.

"Tell me," I say again. He needs to get these words out; they're choking him.

He nods against my chest. "There's something I haven't told you," he says slowly. "You... realize I have a lover?"

It hurts, hearing him say it so plainly, but I nod anyway. "Yes."

"I haven't told you who he is."

"Is it important that I know?" I didn't want to know. I don't want to know.

"Yes, I believe it is," Obi-Wan says, voice choked with a bit of laughter and more than a hint of sarcasm. "He's Bail Organa."

I'm so shocked I pull away from him, taking a full step back and hitting the counter behind me. "I don't understand," I tell him. "You only met Senator Organa yesterday afternoon." This doesn't make any sense. Alderaani are not given to brief affairs, nor to falling into bed with people they've just met. And even if that were so, how could that have affected Obi-Wan so deeply? My mind races as I try to make sense of what he's telling me. I can't meet his eyes.

"I met Bail months ago. Not because of our jobs... informally, at--" He cuts himself off and finishes, "--out of uniform. I didn't know he was a senator at first. We've been seeing each other since somewhere around the time of our mission to Ferri Prime." He seems very nervous about telling me all this. He bites his lower lip and looks at me, waiting for me to say something.

Say something? What do I say? _Months?_ I can't breathe. He's been seeing someone for months, and hasn't told me? He's been seeing _Bail Organa_ for months, and pretended not to know him when I introduced him? What the fuck...?

"Ferri Prime?" I repeat, latching onto his last words. I can't think of anything to say. I look at him, and though he still looks a bit nervous, that nervousness is leaking out of him now.

He sighs a bit, rubs his temples for a moment, and looks up at me. "I'd only just started seeing him then," he continues. His voice takes on a gentle tone, as if he's trying to keep me from getting upset. "I was furious when you extended the length of our stay on Ferri Prime because I'd arranged to meet Bail when we returned, and I had no way of getting in touch with him. I wasn't sure I was going to see him again."

Pieces drop into place immediately. The way he wouldn't touch me, the way he seemed fine so soon after we got back. Those looks he shared with Senator Organa at the meeting. I remind myself to inhale. Exhale. That's right. Breathe, Jinn. _Breathe._

"He's the lover I've been staying with so often," Obi-Wan continues. "I've wanted to tell you, Qui. I really have." He exhales and closes his eyes for a moment. "I would have told you sooner, but he wanted to be discreet about it. He didn't want to be spotted seeing a padawan." There's an edge of bitterness in his voice, which makes me look at him, but then his expression cracks, and he turns away, dropping his forehead into the palm of his hand. "I can't blame him," he whispers. "Not after what he told me."

I don't want to know. I _don't_ want to know. "What did he tell you?" I ask, the words feeling like gravel rolling out of my throat.

Obi-Wan is silent for a few moments. I don't want to be here; I don't want to be listening to these confessions about Obi-Wan's lover. I want to walk away from him, but I can't; I'm not just the man whose heart he's breaking, I'm his mentor, his Master, and I have a responsibility to counsel him, even if it kills me.

He finally speaks, very softly. "Master, have you ever used Force-suggestion on someone who wasn't threatening to harm someone?"

I frown at the sudden, blinding change of subject. "I don't know what you mean," I tell him. "Could you elaborate?" Please elaborate. I'd rather talk about Force-suggestion than your lover any time.

"Have you ever used Force-suggestion in a situation where no one's life was at stake?" he asks.

My head is still spinning from this conversation. "Of course," I tell him. "And so have you. I don't understand what you're asking me."

He meets my eyes. "Would you ever use Force-suggestion to convince someone to go to bed with you if they didn't want to?"

My heart stops. He didn't. He couldn't have.

He sees my expression and shakes his head emphatically. "Not me. No. But someone else did."

I can't even fathom it. Force-suggestion has become a commonly-used tool for the Jedi, getting us in and out of scrapes that would otherwise be difficult or costly in time, effort, credits, or blood, but to use it to coerce another being into permitting an assault -- "Who?" I ask.

"Bail wouldn't tell me." Obi-Wan's eyes are clear on mine. "But I have every intention of finding out, and when I do, I plan on bringing him before the Council. It was a mission to Alderaan some five or six years ago. The padawan of a master-apprentice team sent for some purpose; I don't know what. They worked closely with the royal family, I presume, as the padawan was able to get close to Bail." He lets out a breath. "Too close."

I picture the young, smiling senator I met yesterday afternoon, and the thought of someone using the Force to do _that_ \-- I shake my head in sympathy. "I'm sorry. I can see about finding out who he was."

"Would you, please?" Obi-Wan asks. "It's... very important to me, Qui."

Important to him. Because the young senator from Alderaan is Obi-Wan's lover.

His lover. Of months. Whom he's never mentioned.

"Perhaps we'd better talk about that, Padawan," I tell him.

He stiffens, shoulders straightening, arms dropping to his sides. "Yes, Master," he says, jaw clenched slightly.

"You've had a lover for months now, and you've never mentioned him?"

"Should I have?" Obi-Wan asks. He's trying to sound neutral, but his posture is still very rigid.

That formal stiffness bothers me -- the idea that he's controlling what he really thinks, what he really wants to say. Is _he_ angry at _me_ here? "Can you blame me for my concern, Padawan? If you've nothing to be ashamed of, why hide this relationship from me?"

"Because Bail wanted me to..."

"And Bail's opinion means more to you than your duty?"

"I wasn't aware it was my _duty_ to keep my relationships on file with you, _Master_," he replies, tone icy but a hard emphasis on the word 'Master'.

"There's an assumption that padawans will be _honest_ with their masters," I tell him, working to keep the anger out of my own voice. "_Is_ there a reason you've been hiding this _relationship_ from me?" Relationship. He called it a relationship. Not a fling, not a casual acquaintance; a relationship. "I assume it goes without saying that you could have trusted me to be discreet, had you bothered to tell me what was happening between the two of you. Senator Organa's concerns for privacy aside, what reasons do you have for not wanting this _relationship_ brought to my attention?"

He winces. "Qui--"

"Do I need to remind you about the restrictions on emotional attachments for padawans?"

"No, you don't have to remind me about restrictions," he snaps at me, eyes blazing.

I snap. "_Padawan_!" I bark out. We stand there glaring at each other before I can grind out my next sentence. "Attachment is forbidden." My tone is clipped, and my padawan is staring at me with anger written all over his face. "Emotional involvement with someone else, at this stage of your training, is a distraction you cannot afford--"

"You didn't even _notice_ I was seeing him until months had gone by," Obi-Wan seethes. "Have I failed you in any way these last few months? Have I neglected any of my duties? Has my training been in any way unsatisfactory?"

"You missed most of your classes today. Due to some kind of lovers' quarrel?" I sneer at him. It's an ugly sound, but I can't seem to help it. "This is _precisely_ why attachment is forbidden until after your knighthood."

"One day, Qui. One _fucking_ day out of the hundreds of days I've been _attached_ to Bail. And don't hide behind your robes. You and I both know my training has been just fine, that I've been surpassing your expectations for years now. You're angry because I've fallen in love with someone who isn't _you_."

_...I've fallen in love with someone..._

If he had stabbed me through the heart with his lightsaber, it would have hurt less. I stagger past him, out of the kitchen, making my way to my bedroom.

He catches at my arm. "Qui, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"

"Stop," I tell him, throat closing around the word.

"I wanted to tell you before," he says. "I would have told you before. I was afraid of hurting you. And I didn't know how much Bail meant to me until..." His voice trails off. "Qui, please. I _need_ to talk about this. You're my best friend, and I don't know who else I can trust."

"No," I force out. And I finally turn to look at him. "Attachment is forbidden for padawans. You're aware of that."

His expression is confused, but the confusion quickly bleeds off, turning into fury as he realizes where this is going. "Qui, no. Don't--"

"You are not at a point in your training where you can afford the kind of emotional attachment you have with Senator Organa. Your fight with him last night left you emotionally destroyed; were that to happen on a mission, it could be disastrous. You were surly and distant on Ferri Prime, and had that happened before the negotiations were complete, it could have set back relations between the two factions there for years. There were lives at stake, Padawan, and your distraction was unacceptable."

"Do not ask me to give up Bail. Do _not_ ask that of me."

"I don't have to _ask_ you for anything, Padawan!" I shout. "I am your _Master_ \-- and you are endangering your entire career as a Jedi with this affair! Do you give a damn about that? Or would you have been happier in AgriCorps where you could fall in love all you wanted?"

He steps back as if I've hit him, and I can't imagine that striking out at him physically would have hurt him any less. Part of me already regrets it, but the rest of me knows what I'm saying, while harsh, is completely true. Emotional attachments _can_ damage training beyond repair. They _can_ destroy missions. They are a distraction padawans cannot afford, and there are good reasons for the restrictions against emotional attachments.

He's going to think I've done this for my own selfish reasons, so I won't have to deal with the thought of him in someone else's bed. In someone else's arms.

In love with someone else.

"Master," he whispers, voice shaking. "I don't even know if he's still my lover. After last night, I don't know if I'm going to see him again." He cringes. "On a personal level, that is."

I close my eyes, desperately trying to center. All the anguish last night, all the hours I spent worrying about him, missing classes, and it was because of a fight with his lover? Because he's worried the relationship won't be continuing? This is supposed to be an argument for me to allow this affair to continue? I shake my head and look at him again. I won't convince him of anything if I'm shouting at him. I have to reach out to him, try to understand what he's going through, and then explain that he needs to detach himself from this relationship.

I take a deep breath. "It's expected that you'll begin developing deeper relationships as time passes. But that does _not_ mean you have permission to make emotional commitments to anyone. The rules are quite clear, Padawan." I pause. "When did you first realize you were..." Can't let my voice break. _Cannot_ let my voice break. "...falling in love with him?"

"Some time ago," he whispers. "But it's taken me a while to put a name to the feeling."

"Is he aware that you're unable to make any kind of commitment to him at this point in your training?"

Obi-Wan laughs bitterly. "He's made the point to me more than once."

"Then he'll understand when you tell him you aren't able to see him again," I say, ice in my voice. Obi-Wan flinches. "Will you have an opportunity to do that before we're forced to work with the Alderaani senators again, or should I look for someone to take your place during the negotiations?"

Obi-Wan's face goes grim. "You don't need to replace me, Master."

"Good." I straighten my shoulders. "Is there anything else you need to tell me?" Are there any other secrets he's been keeping from me? "The real reason you don't like Xanatos, perhaps?" I continue, unable to resist needling him a bit. Does he think I don't remember how he asked me to call him 'Padawan' that morning? The way he asked, rather stiffly, what my current relationship with Xanatos was like? Perhaps I'm not the only one dealing with jealousy issues at the moment. It would be best to have that out in the open.

Obi-Wan looks startled at first, then scowls. "Beyond the fact that, so far as I can tell, ethics are optional where he's concerned?"

I shake my head. "Xanatos has been working outside the confines of the Order and the Code for the last ten years, Obi-Wan..."

Obi-Wan shakes his head. "I'm not ready to accept that as an excuse yet. I understand you believe the Code is there as a guide, but I simply cannot agree with you. There are certain constants in the universe, certain truths, and there _are_ things that are right and wrong, regardless of circumstance. The Code exists to remind us of that."

I'm a bit stunned by that line of reasoning; I've explained before that I see the Code as a guide, open to interpretation, and I thought I'd instilled that in him. Apparently he's given it more thought and has decided otherwise. Obi-Wan has always been a more conservative Jedi than I, and this really should not surprise me. I shake my head. "All right," I tell him. "But I was talking about something on a more personal level, Obi-Wan. I know something happened between the two of you..."

"Oh, he told you about that, did he?" Obi-Wan explodes. "So the entire Temple knows Xanatos thinks I'm a bad fuck. Fine. He didn't complain at the time; if I recall, he's the one who told me to fuck him until he bled. He really ought to be more careful what he asks for when he's in the clubs; people will take him seriously. I did." I'm stunned, yet again, for what seems the hundredth time in this conversation. The mental image his words present -- the idea of Xanatos asking Obi-Wan to -- it feels wrong, somehow, to be so distracted by lust and thoughts of sex at the moment, but suddenly I can't think of anything else. Just Xan on the floor of the back room at Rising with Obi-Wan behind him, and...

Obi-Wan spins on his heel and heads for the door. I raise my voice and ask, "Where are you--?"

"To meditate," he bites out, and leaves in a flash of cream tunics and barely-shielded anger.

I rest my head against the wall for a few moments after he's gone.

Could that possibly have gone worse?

* * *

Obi-Wan doesn't come home that night, although he's not cutting me off this time. I feel a swirl of different emotions: irritation, frustration, hurt, bitterness. Over time, they grow more subdued. Perhaps he _has_ gone out and meditated. Or perhaps he's drunk, or out fucking someone.

Or perhaps he's gone to see his lover.

Did I overreact, in telling him to stop seeing Senator Organa? He's right about one thing: I didn't even notice he had a lover until recently. It hasn't interfered with any part of his training, and he might manage to keep things at a point where it won't.

But if he's _in love_ with him...

But that's ridiculous. How would Obi-Wan even recognize love? He's been taught to keep emotional attachments at arm's length. He never fell for me. Perhaps this is wishful thinking, but if he's going to fall in love with someone, why an Alderaani senator he's only known for a few months, and who's probably been off-planet several times during those months? Why not the one person who's always been there for him, who's seen him at his best, his worst, and everything in between?

I walk out to the balcony and blink into the wind. What am I doing? I'm standing here asking why he doesn't love me, coming up with rational reasons why he should. Rationally speaking, Obi-Wan should not be in love with _anyone_. Given time, this cannot come to anything good. He's going to lose his serenity, his composure, his objectivity, and he must know how badly he could be jeopardizing his career with all this. I thought I was certain about how deep his commitment to the Order was -- deeper than mine, by far, I always assumed. I thought I was certain about a great many things. Now, I feel loose and apprehensive.

Is it possible I'm not as good at training apprentices as I hoped?

I'm not in the mood for a lecture from Mace. I can't see myself confiding to Adi that I've fallen in love with my padawan. I wish I could contact Master Dooku, but he's been off planet for more than a year.

But Xanatos is here.

I call him on the vidcomm, wanting to see him, to be able to look him in the eyes, but there's no answer. I sigh and leave a message for him.

"Xan, I don't know if you're home, but... I was hoping..." What? What was I hoping? Was this just an excuse for me to see Xan again, or did I really think he'd want to listen to my problems with Obi-Wan? Too late now. Leave the message, Jinn. "Obi-Wan and I had a bit of a falling out and I wanted to talk to you about it. I need to talk to you. If you get home soon, comm me."

I wait up, but I'm not sure whether I'm waiting for Obi-Wan to come home or for Xan to comm me. Neither one happens, and I eventually fall asleep.

* * *

Tease. Force, Xan is such a fucking tease. He leaves me on the dance floor at Rising in a flash of blinding colors, and I'm left hard and wanting him. I turn around and walk through the door to the back room. Someone here will have something I want; I'm sure of it. I look around; faces, bodies, a mass of flesh. Anything and everything anyone would want. But nothing that interests me.

I walk back out the door and someone wraps an arm around my shoulder. I look up into familiar brown eyes and smile. "Master Dooku," I murmur, falling into his chest and letting him support me. "I thought you were off planet."

"I was," he tells me. "Come, let me get you something."

He guides me to the bar and buys me a drink, and as we're beginning to get caught up, my commlink buzzes. It buzzes a few times before Master Dooku raises an eyebrow and says, "You should answer that. Your padawan needs you."

Why is my commlink buzzing? I didn't even realize I brought it here tonight. And it's halfway across the bar. Odd. I reach over and scramble for it, flicking it on and pressing it to my ear. "You shouldn't be calling me here," I murmur.

"You told me to call," Master Dooku says, but his voice sounds extremely odd. He pulls me behind the bar and pushes me onto the couch there. I stretch out. Why am I naked?

"Who is this?" I ask the commlink.

"It's... Xanatos. Are you all right?"

I'm naked and there's a sheet drawn over me. This couch -- no, it's a bed. What a convenient thing to have behind the bar here. "Xanatos," I murmur, reaching under the sheet to wrap my hand around my erection. "I'm fine. What can I do for you?"

He pauses, then laughs a bit. "Sorry. For a moment, I thought you sounded -- never mind. But I thought there was something I could do for you, actually," he murmurs. "How are you this morning?"

I settle into the pillows with the commlink next to my ear. "Tired," I tell him, and yawn for good measure. "How are you?"

"About the same." There's that voice again -- the low, growly mumble that says he was out all night, probably fucking and being fucked. How did that happen? Wasn't he just here teasing me? Ah, so that's what he did; he left and went and got fucked. And now I'm back in my own bed. Oh, that makes far more sense than there being a bed behind the bar at Rising. Where would I have gotten a ridiculous idea like that?

I close my eyes. None of this makes sense. First he's here, then he's not; Master Dooku on Coruscant; a bed behind the bar that turns into my own bed -- wait. I understand now. I'm dreaming. Ah, and with Xan saying 'something he could do for me,' it's my favorite sort of dream. I begin moving my hand, stroking my cock slowly. "So what did you want to _talk_ about, Xanatos?" I ask, my own voice going low and growly and intense.

"Qui, are you -- are you quite sure you're all right?" Xan asks. The low edge in his voice is wearing off. "Have I interrupted something?"

"Not at all. I'm lying in bed, stroking myself and thinking of you."

There's a choking noise on the other end of the line. That's not how this is supposed to work. "Perhaps I should call back..."

"No, no, no. You're the one in my dream. You should tell me what you're wearing and how you're touching yourself."

A long pause, and then, "Qui, I'd be happy to do that for you. But you're not dreaming."

I blink my eyes open, rapidly. I'm not dreaming?

I look around. This is my room, a bit dim from the early hour. This is my bed, with the same rumpled sheets as always. My room, with the copious amounts of lube on the nightstand, and... I really _am_ awake.

Oh, shit. What did I just say to him?

"I'm sorry," I blurt out. "I was sure I was -- I thought I was -- I was at Rising and there was a bed and my commlink was across the bar--" Babbling. Now I'm babbling. He's going to think I've gone mad. "I thought I was dreaming," I manage to explain. "Sorry. I'm a bit slow in the mornings, and... Sorry." How mortifying. I cover my face with my hand and cringe.

"It's quite all right." I can practically hear him smirking on the other end of the line. Oh, Force... "You left a message for me last night."

"Yes," I tell him, remembering now, "about Obi-Wan." I hesitate. "I _could_ use a friendly ear."

"Of course, Qui. Any time. Now, if you like."

"Just give me time to shower and dress. I'll be there in about fifteen minutes."

"No rush," he says, somewhat weakly.

I grin at his tone. "Sorry," I tell him, suddenly not feeling the least bit remorseful. "I suppose that's not a mental image you need -- me, in the shower, naked and wet with soap sliding over my body...?"

"Don't tease me," Xan warns. "I'll see you soon."

I shower and dress quickly, then head off to his room. He answers the door, looking a bit rumpled. Neither of us are at our best in the mornings.

There's breakfast on the table. Fruit and toast and carney-fruit marmalade. I look at Xan, smiling. "It's been a while since you made me breakfast. Thank you, Xanatos." I sit down at the table, and he pours me a glass of tea.

He smiles back. "I thought whatever you had to tell me would be better done on a full stomach. And I thought I remembered you had a fondness for carney-fruit."

"I do," I agree.

He smirks a little before sitting down across from me. "So do I."

I clear my throat. "I'm not really here to talk about carney-fruit, though," I admit.

"I thought not," Xanatos says. He waits, eyes encouraging me to continue.

"It's about Obi-Wan," I tell him, although at this point I'm so distracted by thoughts of Xanatos that I'd almost forgotten why I commed him last night. The dream that wasn't a dream -- did he really tell me he'd be happy to tell me what he was wearing and how he was touching himself? But I shake my head; I should continue. I should focus on my duties here; it'll keep me from making an obvious overture to Xanatos, which is not a good idea, no matter how fuckable he looks with his clothes still rumpled and his eyes still foggy from the early hour. Right. Back to Obi-Wan, then. "I found out why he missed his morning classes. Why he was so late to the sparring session."

"And?" Xan lifts an eyebrow.

"Apparently he had a fight with his lover."

Xan looks at me in confusion. "All that over a fight with a boyfriend? That's a bit odd, isn't it?"

"Not his boyfriend; his lover," I correct, staring intently at Xanatos. The distinction should be clear there.

Xan shakes his head. "He's a bit young for that, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is." He nods at me. Good to see I'm not the only one who thinks so; while I certainly don't think I was overreacting, it's good to have a second opinion from a less-biased observer. "And it's worse, I'm afraid; he's been seeing this person for months, without telling me about it. He believes he's fallen in love."

Xan whistles, low through his teeth. "That _is_ a problem. I take it you disapprove of the relationship?"

"I disapprove of any relationship that requires my padawan to hide his feelings from me and behave irresponsibly."

Xan lowers his eyes. "So tell him to break it off."

"I have."

"Ah." Xan looks back up at me. "Is this where the 'falling out' comes in?"

I laugh, but there's really no humor in it. "Yes," I admit.

"Didn't take it well?"

"He stormed out of our quarters. If he came home last night, I didn't see him."

"Sounds serious." Xan clears his throat. "I assume your padawan is fully aware of the danger he's putting himself in with this relationship?"

"Yes." I put my head in my hands. "I don't know what to do about him, Xan."

He pauses, and I can hear him breathing slowly, evenly. "The two of you are... very close, aren't you?"

We both know what he's asking. "Yes," I admit quietly. And a very small part of me feels a shred of guilt. I'm _close_ to Obi-Wan, when years ago I refused Xan's offer to be close to him. What does Xan think of that?

"All the more reason for him to be angry with you for insisting he put an end to his relationship, then," Xan says. I can't hear anything in his tone. No bitterness, no resentment, no leftover sense of rejection? Has he finally forgiven me after all this time? "After what he put you through the last couple of nights, though, I can't blame you for thinking his attachment to his lover is out of bounds for a padawan." He hesitates. "Do you think you overreacted?"

"I don't know," I admit. "I need more time to think on this, Xan. I need time to meditate."

He nods sympathetically. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

I sigh and sit back in my chair, finally looking at him. "I don't know."

But perhaps there is. I'm here already, after all, and this may not be the best time to bring it up, but we need to have a talk about _us_. I want him; he wants me. I'm weary of all the emotions that have been running through me in the last two days. I want my head clear. I want...

Xan arches an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything. All right; I'll have to bring it up.

"Obi-Wan isn't the only padawan I've had difficulty dealing with recently," I continue.

Xan's expression darkens a bit. "I'm not your padawan anymore, Qui-Gon. And I'd hoped our difficulties were coming to an end."

"Perhaps _difficulties_ was the wrong word in our case."

"What's the right word?" Xan asks.

"Complications."

"Ah."

I look at him, but I know he won't continue; he's leaving it to me. "You surprised me yesterday afternoon," I tell him.

"How's that?"

_How's that?_ This is going to be harder than I thought. All right; bring those skills as a diplomat and negotiator to bear, and coax him into talking. "You kissed me." The eyebrow arches again. "I wasn't expecting it."

"Neither was I," he tells me. "Would you like to take it back now?"

"No." I shake my head. He's handling subtlety much too well; let's try directness. "I'd like to get your back up against the wall and fuck you." I give him a wry grin, knowing full well that this is coming seemingly out of nowhere -- well, after yesterday afternoon and this morning, perhaps it's not. Surely he expected it to some degree?

He chokes a bit and takes a long drink of his caf to distract himself. That did it; he's no longer looking neutral and unmoved. "That's quite a statement, coming from you," he manages after a moment. "What's brought this on?"

"It's not exactly a new feeling. I've wanted you since you were eighteen."

"You could have had me when I was eighteen," he fires back. "Why now? Why almost fifteen years later, when we've been apart for ten years and you don't know me at all anymore? Why today, when your padawan walked out of your quarters last night and--" He stops mid-sentence and the ice comes back into his eyes. He stands and walks to the door, opening it. "I think you'd better go now, Qui-Gon."

"Is that really what you want?" I ask. "I'm making you an offer you wanted badly ten years ago. Me. No strings, no emotions, no ghosts of memory." After all this talk of relationships and emotional attachments, after all the things I said to Obi-Wan, after how hurt I was to think that he'd fallen in love with someone else, I wonder -- would Xanatos really want the complications of a relationship, even if I were ready to offer? Do I want them? Could we start here, skin against skin, needing nothing more than that?

I walk across the room and step into his space, and he lets me, pressing his body to mine and tipping his face up slightly. "Qui," he whispers.

_Yes._ No complications. Sith take the complications. We can start here, and let go of the rest.

He kisses me, and I clutch at him. I press the length of my body to his, pushing him into the wall, and I grind my erection into his thigh. He moans at that, and his arms wrap around my neck, holding me tight. His kiss is warm and hungry, as if he's been waiting for this kiss for the last ten years -- for as long as I have. I pull back a bit and look into his eyes, which are so blue it nearly hurts to look at them.

"We've talked enough," I murmur. "I want you."

He hisses out a breath. "I want you, too." He raises a hand and puts his fingers lightly on my lips. "But we haven't talked enough. I _want_ strings, Qui-Gon. I still have emotions, and I suspect you do as well, much though you seem as if you'd like to divorce yourself from them just now. There will always be ghosts of memory between us, and we can't simply ignore them."

I suck the tips of his first two fingers into my mouth and bite gently. "Later," I murmur. "We can talk about all that later."

He pulls his fingertips back and pushes me gently away from him. "No," he says simply. "I'm not ready, and now is not the time."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not your fucking consolation prize." I gape openly at him, and he narrows his eyes at me. "I mean it. You want to find someone to console you over your latest lost padawan? Find someone else."

He shoves me out the door, hard, and it slides shut as I watch. I reach out through the Force, searching for his feelings, but slide off his shields.

Cutting me off. Now they're both cutting me off.

I curse and head back to my quarters. It's time for me to get ready for my diplomacy seminar anyway.

* * *

My performance in the diplomacy seminar is not up to my own usual standards; I end up starting the discussion but letting Knight Aubris Feln and Padawan Miya Onazuka lead it. I'm blessed with a number of gifted students here, and I take full advantage of their dedication to keeping up with their studies today. I can't quite seem to focus; I hope that's not as obvious as it seems to me.

After class ends, I watch absently as the students file out of the room. I feel a hand on my arm, which draws my attention out of my frustration. I shake my head and look down at the hand, then at its owner. "Knight Feln," I nod. "Can I do something for you?"

"You seem a little out of sorts, Master Jinn," he says. "Is something the matter?"

I sigh, closing my eyes and rubbing at my temples. "It's nothing," I mutter.

"Master, with all due respect, it's clearly _not_ nothing. I'm free this afternoon, if you'd like to talk about it."

"I'd rather not talk," I mumble. "I appreciate your concern, Aubris, but it's nothing."

He gives me an odd look, but nods, continuing in a neutral, matter-of-fact tone. "If you change your mind, my commlink frequency is listed. I'd be happy to listen, or if you're not interested in talking, I'd be happy to provide a distraction for you."

Distraction?

I look at him again, a little harder this time. Knight Aubris Feln is around Xan's age, tall, broad-shouldered, blond, with piercing, intelligent hazel eyes. I've always seen him as nothing more than a colleague, though I seem to recall Xan spending a night or two with him when they were both padawans. Aubris is quite handsome, very appealing. He certainly _could_ provide a distraction, were I after such things. If that's what he's offering.

I raise an eyebrow at him, and he smiles at me. "Think on it," he says, cocking an eyebrow of his own, the lilting tone in his voice confirming exactly what I've been wondering. He nods to me and leaves the room.

I gather my course materials and leave the room, heading back to my quarters. I'm not at all surprised Obi-Wan isn't home; I consider feeling out for his presence, but fuck -- I'm tired of thinking about Obi-Wan, tired of thinking about Xanatos, tired of wondering where I've failed as a master or a lover or a friend.

Distraction.

Maybe it's not such a bad idea. There's no history whatsoever with Aubris; he's not even a friend, he's just a colleague, a fellow Jedi, and he _did_ offer.

It only takes me a few seconds to make up my mind. I look through the directory and find his commlink frequency, and I comm him.

"Feln here," he answers.

"Aubris, this is Qui-Gon Jinn. I've been thinking of your offer earlier."

"Which one?" he asks, voice low, teasing a bit. "Do you want to talk? Or would you rather leave off talking?"

His tone suggests he knows precisely why I called, and I smile. "I'd rather leave off talking for now."

"Wonderful," he breathes. He gives me directions to his quarters, and I tell him I'll be there shortly.

Very shortly; his quarters are nearby, and no sooner have I rung the doorchime than the door slides open for me. Aubris is in a light undertunic and trousers only, resting an arm against the doorframe and smiling at me with his teeth bared slightly. "Come in," he says.

I walk in; the door slides shut, and he yanks me into his arms, pressing his mouth hard against mine. I kiss back, and his tongue slides into my mouth, hard and slick and wrestling with mine. I slide mine against his, gently rubbing at it, and he moans, a sound I can feel as well as hear. We fight a bit for dominance, just in that harsh, nearly brutal kiss. He pulls back first.

"Tell me what you want," he breathes, "how you want it."

I tear at his clothes. "Rough and fast and don't fucking talk about it. Just do it."

"No talking, right." He helps me get his clothes off, then starts working at mine, getting my tunics over my shoulders. I hear fabric tearing and don't care. "Rough is fine," he says in confirmation. "Break me if you can."

"Shut the fuck up," I tell him, biting hard at his lips. He laughs, and we separate just long enough to pull the rest of our clothing off. He drags me into his bedroom, where he digs in a drawer for a barrier, which he hands to me, and lube, which he uses to slick his opening. No wasted time or efforts here, then; it's just going to be fast and rough, a distraction, something I don't have to take seriously or wonder about after. It's exactly right, and he seems like he wants it this way as much as I do. He grins at me, baring teeth, and gets on his hands and knees on the bed. I pull the barrier on and sheathe myself inside him.

He cries out and arches back a bit; I put a hand on the small of his back and hold him down. "Hold still," I pant out.

"Yes," he agrees, stilling immediately and shutting up. I take him hard and fast, and he doesn't complain, doesn't even wince with the strokes. Not hard enough, then; I speed up and go in deeper, harder.

_That_ draws a response out of him; he grits his teeth and growls through them, and his hands clench at the bedcovers. I grin, baring teeth myself, and wonder just how much he can take. Let's find out.

I pump harder, and he growls again. And then, to my surprise, I sense the brush of his thoughts against mine. Impressive -- he's able to concentrate well enough for that while I'm fucking him like this? I let him in immediately. His mind pushes against mine, and it's almost a mental grapple for a few moments as I can sense him looking for my pleasure centers and trying to rifle into my fantasies. I laugh softly and shove him away from my inner thoughts, keeping him on the surface where he belongs. I pin his mind the way I'm pinning his body, stroking over his pleasure centers in rhythm with my strokes against his prostate. He's whimpering under me, now, and starting to make soft keening noises.

"Like that?" I ask him, growling, half-laughing. I haven't had something like _this_ in quite a while -- a nice hard fuck to get my frustrations out of my system, and nothing more. It's good. Damn good.

"Like that," he whimpers, and shoves back hard against me. "Master, I -- put your hand on me, touch me, please..."

I lean forward and wrap my hand around his cock, stroking hard, getting everything into place, fucking his mind and his body until I know he can't see straight anymore. He comes with a grunting, shuddering gasp, and falls forward onto his elbows, lying still for me. I follow a few seconds later, holding in my sounds and holding still against him.

I wait a few minutes for the fog to clear from my mind a bit, then pull out of him -- all the way out of him -- and yank the barrier off my cock. I look around; there are towels in the nightstand. I pull one out and clean myself off, wiping the sweat off my chest while I'm at it. Aubris turns over and looks at me, his expression unreadable.

"Do you feel better?" he asks.

"Much," I confirm. I start pulling my clothes back on. "Do you mind if I ask why you offered?"

He smiles enigmatically. "You appeared to need it. Do you mind if I ask why you needed it?"

"Yes," I answer shortly. "But thank you. I'll see you at the next session, then?"

"Certainly." He stays reclined on the bed, still smiling. "Have a good afternoon, Master Jinn."

"And you, Knight Feln."

I have a tickling sense of _something_ as I leave Aubris's room, but I can't quite tell what it is. I shrug it off and head back to my quarters. To hell with Obi-Wan, to hell with Xanatos, to hell with fucking complications.

_-end-_


End file.
